


Words are Clever, Hands are Better

by Wynn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adult Language, Established Winterwidow seduces Darcy, Multi, Polyamory, Prompt Fic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Seduction, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/F/M, Unexpected feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynn/pseuds/Wynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Darcy defends her against a belligerent drunk, Natasha says thank you in the most unexpected of ways: she kisses her. The kiss uncovers unexpected feelings between Darcy, Natasha, and James, and sparks off a series of encounters in which Natasha and James try their best to seduce a wanting but skittish Darcy. Based off a Tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Natasha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/gifts).



> Based off a prompt received from eustaciavye28: OT3 fic of Natasha/Bucky/Darcy. Darcy would be overwhelmed and scared at first, but then she would totally be down with that. :)
> 
> The fic begins with a drunk man using misogynistic and other hurtful language against Natasha and Darcy. There’s also a reference to Natasha killing two children, which is my elaboration on what Loki said about the hospital fire to Natasha in The Avengers. The ‘Sokovia Accords’ is my take on the accords mentioned by Sam in the Ant Man end credits scene, some political act that seems to be limiting superhero activity. Title a lyric from “Hands are Clever” by Alex Clare.
> 
> The characters, of course, are not mine. I'm just playing in Marvel's sandbox for a while, for non-profit, entertainment purposes of course.

Part One: Natasha

The man, if one could call him that, Natasha had a few choice phrases that could be used instead, stood before her with clenched fists. Tall, yet thin and soft, she placed him in his early twenties, old enough to be in the bar and clearly drunk, but not old enough to know better than to confront her, a known Avenger, at the bar with other Avengers, even if it was common knowledge that the Sokovia Accords kept all the Avengers from physically harming a civilian. The three men behind the man certainly had that in mind, their eyes flitting from their friend to Natasha and then over to James, stiff and seething to Natasha’s left, and then to the table in the back where the rest of the team sat as paralyzed as she.

The man looked down his nose and her and tried to sneer. “Russian whore. Go back to Putin, you baby killer.”

He spit in her face at the last, catching her low on her left cheek. At that, James inhaled sharply. Natasha heard the plates in his arm start to shift, James preparing to punch this guy despite the Accords, despite the extra heaping of probations upon him for his actions as the Winter Soldier. She understood the reaction, hearing the same indignation from the rest of their team at other times, when other people threw the sins of her past in her face, sins Natasha herself revealed in order to bring down Hydra. She hadn’t meant to kill the two children still in the hospital, only the turncoat hiding in their midst. But intentions meant nothing to them, those that sneered at her and called her names. They hadn’t to the Red Room either. Only results did, and Natasha had been too young, barely more than a child herself at the time, and she’d been too afraid to do anything other than comply. 

She lifted a hand to wipe away the spit, and it’s because she did that she missed Darcy approach until she barreled between Natasha and the man, shoving him back so hard he tripped over a bar stool and fell onto his ass.

“Apologize to her, dickweed.”

The man gaped at Darcy. James gaped at Darcy. Natasha gaped at Darcy. The entire bar gaped at Darcy. Darcy, though, didn’t gape. The bit of her face that Natasha could see was rigid with fury.

“I’m serious,” she said now, stepping toward the man, one hand in a fist and the other shoved in the pocket of Steve’s hoodie. “Apologize to her. Right now.”

“Or what?” the man asked as he lurched to his feet. “You can’t do nothing—”

“The hell I can’t. Do I look like an Avenger, asshole?”

She didn’t. Darcy lacked the hard edges the rest of them had, Natasha and James here, Steve and Sam and the Maximoffs at the table, Darcy ancillary to the battles the team waged. The man saw this too, but rather than cow him with the realization that no political posturing prevented Darcy from punching him in the face, it emboldened him, his target no longer a spy or an assassin, but just a woman, one that he towered over by a good six inches. 

He did that now, sneering down at Darcy as he had sneered at Natasha. “Get out of my face, you fat groupie bitch, before I put you down.”

Natasha had to reach out to grab James’ arm to stop him from punching the bastard. Darcy lifted her chin and sent the man her own sneer. “Apologize, you gross bag of assholes, before I put _you_ down.”

Natasha heard Pietro snort. So too did one of the asshole’s friends. The man whirled toward his friend and threw out an arm, but his friend simply shrugged as he took a drink from his beer. The bartender came then with the drinks that Natasha had ordered, and she thought for a moment that nothing would happen, that the man would be distracted by his friend and that he would pick a fight with him instead, but the sound of the drink tray sliding onto the bar brought the man back around. He scowled at the drinks and then he scowled at Darcy, his face and neck splotched with rage. A second passed, time slowing down to a Pietro crawl. In that second, Natasha felt the violence to come. She knew that James did too, the muscles in his forearm bunching beneath her hand.

What surprised her was that Darcy did as well.

The man lunged toward Darcy, reaching for her hair to fling her down to the floor, but Darcy whipped her tazer out of her pocket before he touched her and fired it at his chest. The man went rigid as the nodes connected. He twitched and jerked like a frenzied marionette before flopping down onto the ground at their feet. A number of people surrounding them burst into applause. At the table, Pietro whooped then banged his fist on the wall in appreciation. James smiled, first at Darcy and then at Natasha, but before Natasha could respond to him, Darcy kneeled next to the groaning man and spoke.

“I might not be an Avenger, but I’ve spent my whole life defending myself against asswipes like you, so you’re lucky I didn’t aim this at the sliver you call your dick.”

She stood then, casting a slit-eyed glare at the man’s three friends. The one who snorted lifted his glass in a salute. The other two did nothing, one still watching James with wide eyes, the other quiet as he shook his head at his friend. Darcy disconnected the prongs and stuffed the tazer back into the hoodie’s pocket then she faced Natasha and James. She grimaced when she spotted the still damp place on Natasha’s face from where the man had spit upon her.

“Come on,” she said, reaching for Natasha’s hand. “Let’s wipe that roadkill’s DNA off your face before you catch something.”

Natasha said nothing as Darcy clasped her hand. She couldn’t, not yet steady from this surprising twist, this unexpected protection offered to her by Darcy. She was every time someone did so for her, whether Clint or Fury, Steve or James. The circle had grown over recent years, extending to Hill and Sam and now Pietro and Wanda, but they all knew, all of them in the game like her and forced into positions of compromise. 

But not Darcy. 

Natasha looked at James as Darcy began to tug her away. His eyes were soft, understanding, his circle even smaller. The bar patrons parted before them. A few lifted their glasses to toast Darcy as they passed by, but most either silently stared or avoided looking at them altogether. Both the small hallway leading to the bathroom and the bathroom itself were empty. Darcy led them over to the sinks, where she grabbed a paper towel and dampened it in the sink.

“Here,” she said, handing the towel to Natasha. “I’ve got some lavender face wipes in my purse too to help banish the stench of asshole.”

Natasha smirked at the last. She took the offered towel and wiped at her face, watching Darcy as she did. Spots of color lingered on her cheeks and she still breathed fast from the confrontation. Her eyes flicked over to the door as though she expected someone to barge in after them. When no one did, she looked back at Natasha.

“Are you okay?”

Natasha nodded. “I’ve had much worse said to me and by people who matter a great deal more than he ever will.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” She shook her head then, her nostrils flaring as she raged. “We would be dead, all of us, this entire _planet_ , like six times over if it weren’t for you.”

Natasha crumpled the paper towel and tossed it into the trash. “He wasn’t wrong about me. What I did. Not technically.”

“He wasn’t right either. I read those files. There were a zillion extenuating circumstances, not the least of which was the fucking scum-bucket psychos that tortured you for years.”

Natasha pressed her lips together, knocked askew once more by the anger at what she endured rather than at what she did. Darcy, though, read disapproval in her silence, rather than disbelief. She averted her gaze and bit down on her bottom lip, worrying the skin there for a few moments before she blurted out, “I’m sorry for butting in. I know you don’t need defending. Like, at all. I just… reacted.”

She flushed then, the color creeping up slow on her neck. Natasha reached out and squeezed her hand, casting her a soft smile as she did. “I might not need defending, but I appreciated it all the same. Thank you.”

Relief broke across Darcy’s face in a bright, broad grin. “You’re welcome,” she said, squeezing Natasha’s hand in return. “Any time, mon ami.” She looked at Natasha another moment before glancing past her toward the bathroom door. “You ready to head out and consume some victory brews?”

Natasha was about to nod her assent, but she didn’t, she stayed in place instead, her gaze caught on the lingering flush on Darcy’s neck. She flushed not from embarrassment at her actions, but from her reaction, from whatever drove her from her seat across the bar to step between Natasha and the man. Perhaps just compassion, a need to protect those she considered to be her friends. Natasha saw this frequently at HQ, with Darcy and Jane, with her growing friendship with Steve and how hard she worked to bring Wanda out of her shell. But maybe there was something else, something more, Darcy’s hand clasped tightly around hers, her expression radiant in the dim bathroom light. 

The possibility intrigued. 

Natasha looked at Darcy, taking her in from tip to toe. She was gorgeous, though Darcy tried to hide it, dressing in layer upon layer, in hats and scarves and sweaters and coats that made more sense given what she said to the man. Her gaze stopped and held first on Darcy’s lips, lush and stained red from her gloss, and then her chest and on down to her hips and the curve of her legs in soft black boots. The possibility definitely intrigued, Natasha finding her heartbeat quicken as she regarded Darcy, her unexpected savior.

Natasha felt the hand in hers grow stiff. She lifted her gaze to find Darcy staring at her with wide eyes. “Are you…” she began only to stop and stare before starting again, “Did you just check me out?”

“Yes.”

Darcy blinked at that. “Oh.” Her flush returned, a deeper shade of red than before. “Oh.”

Natasha eased forward, crossing the delicate line between companionable and sensual. “I don’t believe I thanked you properly for coming to my defense,” she said, rubbing her thumb across the back of Darcy’s hand. “I’d like to now, if you don’t mind.”

Darcy drew in a shaking breath, but she didn’t move away. “Mind? Uh, why would I mind?”

“Because I’d like to kiss you. Is that okay?”

Darcy’s eyes widened at the blunt admission. “What— What about…?” Her gaze darted toward the bathroom door, asking what she couldn’t say. 

“What about James?” At Darcy’s nod, Natasha smiled. “He won’t mind. In fact, I think he’ll be jealous I got to kiss you first.”

Darcy’s head whipped back toward Natasha. “What?”

“He thinks you’re beautiful. If we weren’t what we are, he probably would have made a move on you by now. I know I would have.”

Darcy closed her eyes at that. “Holy shit.”

Natasha said nothing a moment, instead using that time to assess Darcy. She breathed fast and her pulse fluttered briskly in her throat. Her free hand gripped the sink hard while the hand that Natasha held began to tremble. 

“I won’t do it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Natasha said, pitching her voice low, as reassuring as she could make it with her blood pumping fast. “I don’t want that. I would never want that. I just want to say thank you.”

Darcy laughed then, a strangled gasp that made Natasha smile. “Most people say thank you by, you know, just saying thank you.”

Natasha took a step forward, erasing the distance between she and Darcy. “I’m not most people.”

Darcy laughed again as she opened her eyes. “Yeah. That I know.”

Natasha took another moment to consider Darcy. She read anticipation more in her gaze than any trepidation, her eyes dark and heady with lust. “So can I? Say thank you?”

For the second time that night, Darcy took her by surprise. “Not if it’s just to say thank you.” She swallowed hard but didn’t avert her gaze. 

“It’s not.” And it wasn’t. Natasha wanted to kiss her. She was surprised by how much, usually so in tune to her feelings. But Darcy had snuck up on her in more ways than one tonight, and she didn’t want to let the opportunity pass her by.

“Then yeah. That—” The tip of Darcy’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. “That would be fine.”

The breathy assent made Natasha smile. “Have you ever kissed a woman before?” She kept her tone light, teasing not interrogatory.

Darcy nodded, then, swallowing hard, “But not one like you.”

Natasha arched a brow. “Like me?”

“Yeah. You know, hot. And fierce. You’re awesome.”

Few people had made Natasha smile the way that Darcy did just now. Nearly all of them sat out in the bar, waiting for them to emerge. “Would it shock you,” she asked, raising a hand to push a lock of hair out of Darcy’s face, “if I said I thought the same about you?”

Darcy nodded. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

“Well, I do. And I know James does, too.”

“Oh my god.” Darcy closed her eyes again. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, but couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her.

Oh yes, James would definitely be jealous. Natasha filed away the details to share with him later, to see what perhaps could develop between the three of them in the aftermath of this. Releasing Darcy’s hair, Natasha lowered her hand and touched the side of her neck, felt her pulse pounding beneath her palm. Lifting her other hand, Natasha cupped Darcy’s cheek. She drew her thumb against Darcy’s mouth, and Darcy shivered at the touch, so Natasha did it again, smearing a bit of the gloss this time. She wondered at the taste a moment before she licked her lips and leaned in to initiate the kiss. 

Darcy inhaled at the touch, the simple press of lips firm enough to bypass chaste for provocative. Natasha inched her hand up Darcy’s neck to lay claim to the line of her jaw then she nudged Darcy’s head a bit to the left, parted her lips, and tasted the sticky gloss that, up close, smelled like cherries. Darcy gasped at the contact; her mouth opened, far enough for Natasha to slink inside, to brush her tongue against Darcy’s. Darcy moaned and, more importantly, she moved, clasping Natasha’s waist with a trembling hand as she reciprocated the caress. Natasha felt none of the nerves shaking Darcy’s hand in her kiss. The certainty made her head spin, made her push in further, press her body flush against Darcy’s. It made her vow to bring Darcy into her bed with James, the two of them, twin visions of black and blue and red, red lips, stealing her breath.

She heard footsteps in the hall then, James by the tread, and began to ease back. She wanted him to see Darcy, see her flushed, see her lips puffed and eyes dazed from the kiss. And they were, Darcy slowly opening them as Natasha pulled away. She shivered as Natasha licked her lips to taste the gloss clinging there still, as she smiled up at Darcy and brushed soft fingertips against the side of her face. 

“Thank you.”

Darcy laughed at that. “You’re welcome.” She licked her lips and sucked in a deep breath, her eyes still locked onto Natasha’s mouth. “Just, you know, helping out. Happy to. Anytime.” Her eyes widened at the last and, jerking her gaze up, she flushed again. “I didn’t … I meant with the tazing. Not with the kissing. Not that I didn’t like it. Because I did. You, uh, you know how to kiss.” Her eyes dipped down to Natasha’s lips for a second before Darcy yanked her gaze away again. Blushing harder, she took a step toward the door. “I, uh, we should go. We’re in here. And they’re— he… James is, uh, out there.”

Natasha turned to watch her retreat. “Yes, he is.” 

Darcy nodded quickly, interpreting her comment in the general rather than in the particular. She turned before Natasha could clarify and yanked open the door, walking straight into James as she did. 

“Oh shit!” Then, looking up, seeing who stood before her, “Oh _shit_.”

James quirked a brow at that, a hint of a small already upon his lips. He shifted a bit to the side to let her pass, but then the light from the hall hit her face and he stilled, his gaze zeroing in upon her kiss swollen mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Darcy said again, but breathless this time. Natasha understood the reaction, having been on the receiving end of that intensity from James more than once in her lifetime.

She started toward them then, her steps languid and muscles hot and loose. “I was just thanking Darcy for helping me tonight.”

The hint of a smile bloomed slow on James’ face. “Were you now?”

Natasha nodded and James took that as an opportunity to look at Darcy as Natasha had just a few moments before.

“Oh my god,” Darcy moaned. “Bucky Barnes just ogled my boobs.”

“Yes, I did. And they’re gorgeous. _You’re_ gorgeous,” he added, lifting his eyes to hers.

Darcy whimpered. Though she couldn’t see, Natasha suspected she closed her eyes as well.

She stopped behind Darcy. “See,” she said, setting a hand low upon Darcy’s waist, “I told you he wouldn’t mind.”

James smirked at that. “Mind? Only that I missed it.”

Darcy made a strangled noise then. She took a step back, and Natasha thought for a moment that she’d retreat into the bathroom, that later would indeed come now, but she ducked around James instead and darted down the hall for the bar. 

James frowned as she disappeared. “Is she okay? I didn’t mean—”

Natasha reached out for his hand. “I know you didn’t. _She_ knows you didn’t. Which is why she ran.”

James looked back at Natasha. “She’s interested? In the both of us?”

Natasha nodded, only to stop to say, “Individually she is. I’m not so sure about us together.”

James snorted at that. “Understandable. We are a fucking handful. Or I am at least.”

“We both are. Just in different ways.” Natasha moved forward then, pushing James back into the hall to free the bathroom for others. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a tight embrace. “I want to, though. All of us together. She’s…” Natasha drifted off, the emotion she denied at the bar finally cresting within her. “I’m not sure Darcy gets what she did tonight. How much it meant.”

James tightened his arms around Natasha and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “She probably doesn’t.” He rubbed a hand over her back, blew out a sigh that ruffled her hair. “I could try to tell her, talk to her about it, if you want. See if she is interested in more. In us, I mean.” 

Natasha pulled back far enough to look at him. “Shouldn’t I do that? I am the one who started all this.”

“True. But it’s not just you she’d be kissing, and I need to make sure she’s okay with the both of us.”

With him, he meant, but Natasha didn’t voice the thought. Instead, she laid her head on his chest and hoped that, what she began tonight, James could find a way to continue.

*


	2. Part Two: James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the bar, James arrives at Darcy's quarters with breakfast and intentions to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy adult conversation, Batman. My complete inability to leave feels out of the equation where Bucky Barnes is concerned made this bloom into something more than just the hotness of Bucky and Darcy and Natasha all together. Though there is some of that too. Hopefully. 
> 
> Not sure when I'll get the final part posted. As this is my first foray into OT3, I'll probably obsess over it until I'm satisfied it's not shit. Bear with me, my friends. :D

At ten the next morning, James made his move. He stood outside Darcy’s quarters at HQ, a bag of chocolate muffins in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. He knew she usually slept in, her hours with Jane skewing towards late nights and even later mornings, which, he surmised, grew to be even later last night as Darcy reeled from the events at the bar, but he didn’t want to risk her sneaking out before he had the chance to talk to her. Delaying would likely increase the awkwardness between all of them, which would decrease his odds for success, and James needed to succeed, at least in repairing the friendship he’d grown to cherish if not in convincing Darcy to seize the opportunity that Natasha created for them last night.

Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted the hand with the muffin bag and rapped a knuckle against the door a few times. He heard nothing inside, but he waited, his mother’s manners still lurking in the back of his brain. After half a minute, he knocked again, louder and longer this time. A muffled curse sounded from within after the fourth rap followed by what sounded like a pillow thrown at her bedroom door. James suppressed his smile and knocked again, just a few short taps, enough to be insistent, enough to be annoying and finally get her out of bed. He heard her slow shuffle step across the apartment to the front door, heard her grumble about morning freaks and the too bright sunshine, and then he heard a soft gasp, Darcy finally reaching the door and spotting him on the security monitor.

James shifted the bag into view of the camera. “I brought breakfast. Chocolate muffins and some of that sugared nightmare you call coffee.” He smirked at the last, hoping that she took the joke as she usually did and that the night before hadn’t completely wrecked everything. Yet Darcy said nothing and the seconds ticked by, and James felt his smile slip at the thought that maybe it just had. 

“I, uh, I just want to apologize for last night,” he said, pulling in another breath as he lowered his gaze. “For making you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. I— Fuck, I don’t know. I do stuff and I don’t always think about it, and I’m—”

The door opened before he could finish the apology. Head snapping up, James spotted Darcy on the other side. She wore pajamas, blue plaid pants and a soft grey tee; her hair hung loose, still tangled from sleep. But her eyes were alert when they looked at him and without any of the scorn he feared upon arrival, and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief.

“If anybody should be apologizing,” she said as she leaned against the doorframe, “it’s me. I was the betrayer, not the betrayed.”

James shook his head. “You didn’t betray anybody. Least of all me.” He paused and then added, arching a brow, “I thought I made that pretty clear last night.”

Darcy snorted at that. “Yeah, you did. A-plus ogling there, dude.”

James ducked his head again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t. At all. Or at least not the way you think. What I felt was, in fact, the very opposite of uncomfortable.”

He looked up at her, but this time Darcy wouldn’t meet his eyes. She stared at the coffee tray in his hand, but he doubted it was the prospect of sugary caffeine that had brought the faint flush to her face. Either now or last night in the hall outside the bathroom. As if Darcy could read the memory in his mind, her flush deepened. James watched as she glanced up at him and then away, as she toed a bit of the carpet before her and worried at her bottom lip.

“Natasha said that’s why you left. Because… you know…”

Darcy huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

James waited, but she declined to expand. Instead, still avoiding his gaze, Darcy pointed toward the coffee and said, “I think I’m gonna need some of that if we plan to be all adult and stuff and talk about our feelings.”

Her gaze flicked up to his then, questioning. James nodded and Darcy did too before turning and making her way back into her quarters. James followed, easing the door closed behind him with one foot. 

“I’ll get a couple plates,” she said as she disappeared down the hall, “if you want to set up in the living room.”

“Okay.”

James turned for the living room, walking into a set up somewhat identical to the one he shared with Natasha. The same color scheme dominated, the cool blues and creams designed to create a calming environment in which to live. James made his way toward the tan couch along the right wall. Darcy had thrown a number of colorful pillows on top as well as a striped knitted blanket. This he nudged aside as he sat down, leaning over to place the bag of muffins and drink tray onto the coffee table. Darcy appeared then, a paper towel roll tucked under one arm and two plates in her hand. She passed one to him as she circled around the table to claim the empty cushion on the other side of the couch. They divvied up the muffins and coffee in silence and then began to eat in silence, James at least waiting until Darcy caffeinated herself before continuing. 

As she did, her gaze circled more and more over to him, first a long revolution from her plate to her cup to the far window and then to her bag on the floor then over to his left hand and his right knee and then, finally, up to his face, where it skittered away just to start again. Her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed, and James had to take a drink of his coffee to hide his smile.

“You’re gonna break your brain from thinking so hard.”

Darcy shook her head as she ripped off a particularly huge chunk of muffin. “Too late. The brain is already broken. All that’s left are little desperate chunks sloshing around about my feet.”

James lowered his cup, let her see his smile. “Tasha has that effect on people.”

Her cheeks grew red again, but Darcy also smiled, a true one that eased the tension inside of him as much as her opening the door. “Yeah, she does,” Darcy murmured, her smile holding another few seconds before fading. James opened his mouth to joke again, to bring it back, return them to the again to a lighthearted equilibrium, when her eyes cut over to him and remain. “You do, too,” she said, the admission quiet in the morning light.

James froze, his eyes too wide as he stared but he couldn’t stop the stare.

Darcy frowned as the seconds passed. “You’re surprised.”

The comment prodded him from his paralysis. “Uh, yeah. You ran away, literally, when I showed up last night.”

Darcy groaned at his response. She tossed the chunk of muffin still in her hand back onto her plate before slumping down against the couch. “I wasn’t running from _you_ ,” she said, her face twisted into a frown. “I was running from the _both_ of you, okay? You and Natasha. It was… dual ditching.”

James laughed and Darcy did too, shaking her head as she peeked at him.

“I mean, can you blame me?” she added. “Seriously, do you have any idea how hot you two are? Like, collectively? It’s like _Star Wars_ , dude. You know, when Luke’s looking at the twin suns. I was literally about three seconds from spontaneously combusting.”

James leaned forward to place his coffee cup on the table. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Rather than inspire another smile, his comment made Darcy look away again.

“If it does, that’s okay,” he said quickly. 

Darcy sighed again and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it is. I can’t even process what happened enough to form an opinion about it. I’m still stuck on the fact that it happened _at all_.” She huffed out another short laugh. “It’s sure as shit not what I thought would be happening last night.” 

James shifted on the couch, drawing his right leg up underneath him, until he faced Darcy. “I don’t think any of us did. Especially Natasha.” He smiled at that, clarifying when he saw Darcy arch a brow. “She doesn’t like being the last to know. It drives her nuts.” 

“To know? I don’t—”

“You and how you feel about her. And I guess about me, too,” he said as he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I mean, Tasha already knew the other.”

Darcy said nothing at first. She just looked at James, her gaze steady. Then, quietly, “She said that. That you thought I was beautiful.”

“You are. But if it was just that,” he said, lowering his hand to his lap, “I wouldn’t be here right now. And Natasha wouldn’t have done what she did. And you wouldn’t have let her,” he added, cocking a brow.

She stayed silent again, though James knew he was right, Natasha telling him when they returned from the bar how Darcy had called Natasha on why she wanted to kiss her, whether it was just for Darcy or for Natasha too.

“Or am I wrong?”

Darcy remained silent a moment longer before shaking her head. Then, almost immediately, she closed her eyes and heaved out a huge sigh. “I didn’t mean to. Feel things, I mean. For you or for Nat. I just did. I don’t even know when,” she continued, opening her eyes, her face twisted into a grimace of such epic tragedy that James wanted to smile. “It just happened.”

He laughed then, her thoughts echoing his own. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. I swear,” she said, looking at him with a desperate appeal in her eyes. “I was just gonna ride it out. You know, pine from a distance until the crazy subsided and everything went back to normal.”

James nodded. “Me, too. Not Natasha though.” His smile slanted wry at the memory of their first kiss, how Natasha tossed a kernel of popcorn at his head and pulled him in close when he turned to retaliate. “She sees what she wants, and she goes for it.” 

Darcy lowered her gaze. “So she, uh, she, you know, she wants?”

“You know she does. She told me what you said before she kissed you.”

She sent him the look of desperation again. “Yeah, but knowing and getting it are two entirely different things. And I might know. I might have that bathroom seared into my memory for the rest of eternity, but getting it…” She shook her head as she slumped back against the couch. “See above and trying to process everything.”

James hesitated, worrying one final moment about saying the wrong thing, about ending this, whatever it was, before it even really started, but then he proceeded as he usually did, throwing all caution to the wind and diving right in. “It meant a lot, what you said. Defending Natasha like that. The fact that you thought she was worth defending… Not many people do.”

This earned him a frown. “I’m not the only one. The whole team—”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re different. You’re, fuck, Darcy, you’re a good person.” He plowed on as her frown deepened. “Not that we’re evil assholes. We’re not. But we got to work to be good. Or most of us do. But you… you just are. And the fact that you want to be friends with either of us, especially after what we’ve done. Especially me…” He couldn’t find the words. Instead, his mouth twisted and he looked away, everything within him tight. 

He didn’t look for long. Darcy leaned forward after a few seconds to catch his eye, the appeal in them again, but this time lacking the prior manic desperation, instead so clear and forthright that James felt his heart stop. “I think you’re both amazing. You and Natasha. You’ve been through more shit than anyone should ever have to go through in sixty lifetimes, let alone two. But you’re both still here, trying to do good. And if _that’s_ not inspiration to be good, I don’t know what is.”

James said nothing. He couldn’t, words failing him again. He nodded, though, a short one that he hoped conveyed what he could not, and he tried to memorize each word she said so he could tell Natasha later, this being what she needed to hear, every day, until she believed it. Until she got it and not just knew it. Maybe Darcy would tell Natasha herself someday. 

“So what happens now?” Darcy asked. She drew back then, mirroring his pose as she twisted on the couch to face him, pulling both legs up beneath her.

James breathed in and tried to compose himself once more. “I don’t know. It depends. Mostly on you and what you want. Whether you want what happened last night to happen again, or just to leave it at that.”

“What do you want?”

“Not to leave it at that. Especially since I missed out on the kissing in the first place.” 

He said the last with a smile. Darcy laughed as he hoped that she would. She grew quiet again though, her gaze keen as she stared at him. “Just the once?” she asked after a moment. “Or more than that? Do you want for this to, you know, be something? The three of us. As a thing.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before, at least not that I can remember. But if it goes how I think it would go,” he said, rushing as he always did past any reference to his past, “then the answer’s not just once.”

Darcy nodded slowly. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again, worrying it as her eyes resumed their revolution about the room. 

Her hesitancy made him want to punch something. Mostly himself. A wall or a punching bag or those drunk assholes in the bar last night would do too. Instead, he amazed himself by keeping his voice soft and steady. “It’s okay if you want to say no. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t want to say no. I want to say yes. That’s the problem.”

Hope flared in his chest, but still he frowned. “Why?”

The desperate appeal returned. “Because I don’t think I would physically, mentally, or sexually survive seeing the two of you naked. Not individually and especially not together.”

James laughed. Darcy leaned forward and smacked him on the arm.

“I’m serious. Do you get it? Like, at all? I’ve lived within spitting distance of Thor the past few years, but I just can’t around you two. I can’t. And if it’s more than just one time?” she said, her eyes going wide. “If this is something else… I will die. I’ve seen how you two are around each other. Dorky ass, sentimental, hot as shit, cuddly superheroes will be the literal death of me.”

James said nothing. He just smirked at Darcy.

“Which you knew.” She pulled her hand back to wave it at him and the remnants of breakfast on the coffee table. “Look at this. Look at all this. Considerate breakfast foods. Some of my _favorite_ breakfast foods. And suspiciously timed workouts for conveniently clingy workout gear. Like that was an accident.”

James shrugged, unable to restrain his smile. “It’s what I always wear after a workout.”

“That you usually do in the middle of the night, not first thing in the morning.”

He shrugged again as he looked at her. “I might do good. I might even be good. That doesn’t mean I have to play fair.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling too, one that he felt in his gut, in the fizzy pop of energy that skimmed through his nerves. They stared at each other and the moment stretched, and James knew that, if Natasha were here instead of him right now, she’d let the moment play out, she’d let Darcy reach the end of her ruminations and come to her own conclusion. But she wasn’t and he was, so he eased forward on the couch, close enough for their knees to brush.

“There’s something here,” he said quietly, resisting the urge to reach out for her more. “Whether it’s one night or the start of something, I don’t know. But I want to and I know that Natasha does too. The question is do you?”

Seconds passed. Darcy eyed him, her smile gone and her expression serious once more. James let her look, nothing else for him to say, both the indirect and direct appeals already made. But his heart beat fast, more when she broke their gaze a few moments later, when she trailed hers down to his chest and up over his shoulders and down along his arms, first his left and then his right, catching and holding on his hand as it flexed on top of his knee.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

Darcy nodded. She lifted her eyes to his again. James saw anticipation brightening them and a bit of disbelief too, but no doubt or hesitation, and he couldn’t help grinning, couldn’t help bounding to his feet, feeling the buoyancy of Bucky surge within him.

“Great. Do you want to do dinner tonight? Tasha and I’ll cook you something. Or I will. Tasha can’t cook for shit. She’ll supervise. You both can. Or you can cook with me. Can you cook?”

Darcy laughed as she pushed to her feet, at a more sedate speed than James. “Kind of. It depends on how fancy it is. I can bake better than I can cook, so maybe I could bring some brownies or something.”

“Sounds great. Seven sound good?”

She nodded, laughing again.

James grinned down at her. “Good.” He resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her, not wanting to push too far too fast, Darcy just saying yes to this, to him. Rather, he turned to go, to let Natasha know that, somehow, miraculously, he hadn’t fucked this up, that he had, instead, helped bring it further to fruition. 

He made it three steps before she spoke.

“Wait.”

James turned back toward her. Darcy said nothing a moment, then, in a rush, her eyes focused on a point just past his shoulder, “I feel like if I do this now, then I’ll avoid the nervous breakdown that would come from thinking about it too much, which I know would happen, because it kind of, sort of, already has.”

“Do what?”

She said nothing again, but her eyes moved, first to his and then down to his lips. 

“Oh.”

She looked up at him, her brows drawing together. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. It’s more than okay. It’s…” He trailed off then, images of her with Natasha the night before popping into his brain, Darcy in the dim light, her face flushed and lips slick, a trace of the cherry color still on Natasha. James swallowed, but he let his gaze roam over her face in a way he’d been denying to himself the past few months, since he saw her sitting outside in the sun with Wanda, encouraging her to go talk to the Vision.

Darcy didn’t wait for him to finish. She moved closer, stopping before him, leaving enough room for the Holy Ghost, as his ma used to say. She breathed fast and James did too, and they stared at each other a moment before Darcy moved again, lifting one hand and placing it tentatively on his stomach. The soft touch made James twitch, made him breathe in sharply. Rather than dissuade her, the reaction spurred Darcy on. She splayed her hand flat against him, curving in her fingers to grip his waist. Heat radiated from the touch, swirled up through his gut and down, but she did nothing else, just stayed in place and stared at him.

“Darce, if you don’t kiss me right now, you might not be the only one having a breakdown.” 

She did, rising up on her toes to kiss him. James expected hesitancy, not timidity, nothing for her to fear from him, just the uncertainty from unfamiliarity, but there is none, Darcy pressing her lips to his full and firm. Her breasts brushed against his chest. The contact induced him to move, James reaching for her face with both hands, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted beneath his and she wound her other arm around his waist, pushing up further against him. He groaned at the press of her body, at her tongue seeking his. James tasted the coffee and chocolate from their breakfast, the faint hint of mint from her toothpaste the night before, and the gloss, the cherries he chased in his quarters with Natasha upon their return.

In the push and pull, Darcy pushed and James pulled, drawing them down onto the couch. Darcy perched over him, one knee on either side of his legs, and the sight of her ignited him, made his dick harden and breath grow short. Their hands moved, switching positions, his to her waist, hers to his face, where her fingers slid around and dug deep into his hair. Darcy tilted his head back as James had hers and resumed their kiss. The soft glide of her tongue along his made his head spin. His hands roamed without thought, from her waist to her hips, circling to the lush curve of her ass, where he squeezed. Hands tightening in his hair, Darcy arched her back, pushed her ass back against his hands, encouraging more, and his hips snapped up, James seeking friction, the feel of her against him. Darcy rocked forward, not away from his touch, but into him, sinking onto his lap and bringing them together. 

James hissed, breaking the kiss, as she rolled her hips against his. The sensations built, ripped a groan from deep in his chest, the soft cotton of his pants and the taut seam of hers, her heat and weight above him, in his hands as he held on firm, the tickle of her hair and her breath in his ear as she panted and keened. James closed his eyes, he let his head fall back against the couch as he thrust against her, as his body began to burn and brighten from the desire that built within him. 

They found a rhythm, slow and deep, a preview perhaps, or a promise. Darcy released her hold on his hair to grip the back of the couch, using the leverage to bear down more. James cursed at the increase in pressure, first in English and then in French. He heard Darcy laugh and he opened his eyes to find her arched above him, her head back and her eyes closed, her hair streaming long and dark behind her. James cursed again. He reached up with his left hand and skimmed his palm against the side of her neck, against pound of her pulse and the rasp of her breath, over the curve of her jaw to tug her head down for another kiss. There, he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently, worrying the flesh then soothing the worry with a slow stroke of his tongue. Darcy moaned into his mouth. He needed to hear the sound again. Inching his right hand between them, he cupped one of her breasts, found the hard press of her nipple and teased. 

Darcy broke the kiss, gasping. “Oh, god. Oh, Jesus. James…”

She shivered and keened again, and as James told her, he might be good, but he didn’t play fair. He snuck the hand on her breast beneath her shirt, beneath the cotton bra that she wore, palmed her soft hot skin, rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he settled his left hand on her hip again, pressed his feet flat against the floor, and thrust. 

“Do you know how hot you are right now?” he murmured, his voice rough, throat thick with lust. “You’re gonna drive her wild, you know that? Tasha. The way that you feel.” He rocked his hips again and brought them together in a slow drag that made his legs tremble, that teetered him, hot and shaking, up onto the precipice, that made Darcy moan, made her clutch at his shirt and peer down at him with dazed eyes. “You are me right now. You did last night. When Tasha and I got back… She told me how you felt. What she wanted to do with you if we got the chance. And you think that I don’t play fair? Just you wait,” he said, his hips rolling, his head lifting up to place a hot open kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Just you goddamn wait.”

Her body went still then, her back going rigid as she climaxed. James chased it, pushing as far as he could, feeling her flutter through the thin layers of fabric between them. He grit his teeth, his dick aching, his head buzzing, echoing with the sound of her choked off cry, wanting to wait, to wait for Natasha and to show her as she showed him last night. He sucked in a few slow breaths, or he tried to, easing his hand out from under her shirt. The heady feel of her in his arms tugged at him, pulled him closer. James wound his arms around her back and rubbed slow circles, both for Darcy and for himself. After a few seconds, Darcy opened her eyes and looked at him. Face flushed, she leaned in for a light kiss that lingered then moved away far enough to lower a hand between them. 

James tugged it back up. He placed a kiss on her palm, another on her wrist. “Good things, doll. Should save something for tonight.”

Darcy stared at him a moment before nodding. Then, expression growing sly, she peered down at his dick and arched a brow. “So it’s good, huh?”

The ground that he gained nearly gave way beneath the unexpectedly impish comment. James let it, just a bit, pushing up off the couch when Darcy looked at him again. Her eyes widened at the sudden change in direction and elevation. James caught her weight with one hand, cupped firm beneath her ass and clasping her body up against his, hips to hips.

“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” he murmured, holding her a moment before he lowered her to the ground. 

“Jesus peach,” Darcy whimpered, and James wanted to too, the slide of her against him sending another wave of heat roiling through his body. She leaned her head against his chest as her feet touched the floor. Her hands came to a rest where they’d been at the start, clutching at his waist. “I’m gonna die,” she said, her voice muffled yet still detectably strained. “I am literally going to die tonight.”

“Only a few times,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll take it easy on you at first.”

Darcy let out a squeak at that and stepped back. “You have to go. Now. I need— Jesus, I need more caffeine. And sanity. And showers. So many showers.” She pushed at him, both hands on his chest as she tried to direct him back toward the door.

James grinned down at her. “Mmm, pushy. I like that in a dame.”

“Oh my _god_.”

Laughing, James took a couple steps back only to swoop back in and place another kiss on her cheek. “See you tonight.”

Darcy laughed too. “See you.” She followed him toward the hall, far enough to watch him walk toward the door. When he reached it, she said, her voice soft, “You’ll tell Natasha what I said? About, you know, feeling things.”

James nodded. He hesitated then said, “You should too. It doesn’t have to be tonight. Whenever. It’s just—” He looked away, down the floor, an unexpected surge of emotion seizing him. “The more people who say it to her, the more she might believe it.”

“I guess you two have that in common.”

The comment caught him off guard, pulled his gaze back up to Darcy. Her eyes were kind as she looked at him, but keen too, seeing him, refusing to let him go unseen. Throat clamping down he nodded then turned to go, casting her one last look before he disappeared through the door.

*

His quarters were quiet when he returned, his body cooling but not yet cooled. Easing inside, he found Natasha in the living room, curled in an armchair by the window, a mug of tea by her side and a book in her hand. _Slaughterhouse Five_ , something that he heard Darcy recommend Steve a couple weeks before. Natasha eyed him as he crossed the room. Her lips twitched at his still half hard dick then bloomed into a heartbreaking smile as she met his eyes.

“She said yes.”

James nodded. 

Natasha laid her book on the armrest and uncurled herself from the chair. He reached out when close and pulled her in, buried his face in her hair and breathed in deep, still reeling from Darcy, from touching her and from being touched by her, from what she said and how she felt. Natasha let him decompress. Her hold upon him was resolute, strong arms wound around the small of his back, grounding him as she always did.

After half a minute, he felt steady enough to say, “She said we were inspiring. That we inspired her to be a good person.”

Natasha said nothing. She just tightened her hold on him.

He ran a hand up and down her back, smirking as he recalled her other claims. “She also said we were ‘dorky ass sentimental hot as shit cuddly superheroes’ who would be the literal death of her when she saw us naked.”

Natasha smiled against his chest. James fell silent again, marveling, as he did, at the twists of the past day, at the prospect of tonight and of the days beyond. Perhaps more than he deserved, but he tried not to follow those thoughts, to instead embrace the happiness proffered to him. Another miracle wrought in his life by Natasha. “You got to help me not fuck this up,” he said as he drew his fingers through her hair. “For her or for you.”

Natasha pulled back to look at him. “And for you.”

James stared down at her, too much emotion within him to process or try to verbalize. He gave her a small nod then started to laugh, unable to stop himself. “Jesus, Darcy kept talking about the two of us being too much for her. That’s nothing compared to the two of you.”

The smile Natasha sent him made him want to both swoon and seduce. “Damn right.” She lifted herself up on her toes and moved in, but she didn’t kiss him. She teased, licking out lightly at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got plans for you two. Lots of plans.”

“Oh, I know you do. But I told Darce we’d go easy on her tonight. Slow.”

Natasha eased back then, mischief in her eyes. “Slow is a plan.”

He nodded and pulled her in before she could break completely away, kissing her until he felt her heart pound, until she grew breathless and her nails dug lightly into his sides.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions on what Bucky and Natasha should make Darcy for dinner?


End file.
